


One Last Adventure

by kindaquirky



Category: Doctor Who (2005), doctor - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Audrey made me do it, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Gen, Tenth Doctor Era, Twelfth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindaquirky/pseuds/kindaquirky
Summary: Donna dreams, but does not remember. Donna wants, but does not know why. Donna hopes, but does not want to.





	One Last Adventure

It's only when she dreams that she sees him. The dreams are rare, coming and going without cause. She had even bought one of those idiotic dream decoding books, and had to deal with Shaun laughing at her the few times she had pulled it out. The dreams were never the same either. In most, she was with the lanky man, and they were always running to or from something. She had told Shaun that for all the running she did in her mind, you would think the cardio would show. He would just laugh, give her a long, deep kiss, and tell her she was perfect. It may have been a little bit of a lie, but she was fine with that. The children thought she was hilarious, always going on about all kinds of different worlds. When her son told her he would find them all, her heart would clench in fear even while she always, always, told her children they could do whatever they put their minds to.

The dreams always had the most fantastical creatures and places. Fire monsters made of rock, waterfalls made of sapphires, or the most beautiful music hall she had ever seen, with the saddest music she had ever heard. She could never describe them once she awoke, and never knew she had such an active imagination. Her mother agreed with that statement the one and only time she mentioned the dreams to her. Her grandfather though, always asked for more. More aliens, more colors, more of the moments in her mind where Donna could look at someone, stand her ground, and be heard for once. He would tell her of his fancies, of when he looked at the stars and dreamed of creatures never seen before, ones who would come peacefully. Or he would tell her terrible stories where he almost died from poisonous gas, but Donna would save him. Donna would laugh, call them both mad, and lead her grandfather home. 

The dreams would come and go, peter off for a year or two, and then suddenly return. But they always came back. Through the deaths of both her mother and grandfather, through her children returning home less and less as they explored, and learned, and did everything she had ever wished for them, the dreams would always come back. The skinny man slowly started to look like a skinny boy to her; her ever aging in reality and him ever young in the back of her mind. The hand she held his with never wrinkled, never faded, was never too weak to hold his firmly, and help him through another difficult decision. Her voice never cracked, and her body never aged. She would wake, and expect the hair that she would brush aside to be more red than grey, needing time to reorient herself in a world where she was secondary, not necessary. She never knew how Shaun could tell the dreams left her wanting, left her feeling like there was something missing, but those mornings he would hold her tighter, remind her that even if no one else did, he saw her as perfect. She tried to make sure that was enough. 

The dreams would cycle through a pattern, as if even her imagination had limits. Sometimes it was helpful, like the one time the family had gone to Greece on holiday. Even she was surprised by how much she knew about Pompeii, never sure if she had learned it in a book or taught it in a dream. She would wake up in tears for weeks on end, when her dreams brought her to the creatures that would sing in her mind. Those were her nightmares, those could make her stay awake as long as possible though she knew it would only drag out the inevitable. She would dream again of when the universe was bright and unending, only to have it taken away.

Sometimes, she was resentful. As she aged, he did not. As she dealt with the loss of loved ones, he repeated the same storyline. As her marriage moved from a fiery love to warm companionship, he clutched her hand the same way. When she moved from being the center of her children's world to merely orbiting their suns, he dragged her through different worlds with the same unchanging hand every time. His fears, loss, anger, all stayed the same as her life continually evolved. As she grew and changed he was static, a recording of a past she never had. 

She begged once, laying in bed alone, Shaun's overnight at the hospital being extended to two or maybe more, for one new dream, one last time and no more. She hurt when she rose from bed, her legs always cramping and her heart always aching, and thought that these fantastic notions were too much. Her grandchildren thought her odd but lovely, when she was able to see them. Her children told everyone who asked that she was the reason they could travel without fear, explore without boundaries. And Shaun still called her perfect, though now she blamed his failing sight for that idea. How, she though, sitting in front of her mirror, could she have such a life, and still need to have dreams that left her wanting, that left her feeling as if something was missing. The thought would make her cry, make her feel as if nothing she had done could have been right, and hope Shaun could come home soon.

The last was different. His face was different, hair grey and nose long. Another face, but the same light shinning through. When she mentioned this, he said everyone changes, some more than others. The way he held her hand was the same. The way he pulled her along, made her want to scream that she didn't care if he hurt himself, and wanting to hold him close to stop the inevitable pain he would feel was the same. The box was different and the worlds were as well. The sands cool under her tired feet, and waters warm in her cupped hands. I wish you could stay, he would say. I wish you could know what you mean to so many people. I wish, he would say as he held her aged face in his large, strong hands, that you knew just how important you are to everyone. Sitting on a beach with stars she had never seen, with a man she both knew and had never met, surrounded by waters in colors she had no names for, she wept. She wept for her grandfather, who would have loved this dream the most. For her mother, who could never have wrapped her head around the man's words. For her children, who always made her feel that she was important, that she was amazing. For Shaun, who would hold her tight, and call her perfect. She wept, because she knew all this, and needed a man she had never met to remind her.

When she woke the next morning, Shaun next to her once again, the tears continued. She cried for the man who left her, and it felt like he left her over and over again. The pull she so often felt, for more, for something that she never had to begin with was gone, like an old grudge finally forgiven. Shaun woke, and held her close, and said nothing. Her sniffling subsided, and her breath evened out. The tears felt like a final release, a goodbye she never knew she had to say. Shaun held her as tight as his arms could, and never said a word. The dreams stopped, and life moved on.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was un-beta'd. If you see any problems, please let me know, and thank you for reading this drabble written with love.


End file.
